


The End.

by MeganWrites



Series: Rod of Asclepius [11]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Hospital, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-11 19:14:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11720745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeganWrites/pseuds/MeganWrites
Summary: "The thing about trying to be friends with your ex is that it never works. Or rarely ever works."Ian is a nervous medical intern, and Mickey is a grumpy nurse.





	1. and i will love with urgency

**Author's Note:**

> I'm nervous about posting this fic, genuinely, because I feel like it doesn't quite fit with the rest of the series. But it's two years later and I'm two years more bitter about all the shit that happened on Shameless. I don't watch the show anymore and haven't since season 5 (which has been fucking lovely, thank you), but this has been something I've worked on, on and off, since the last fic in this series was posted. 
> 
> This fic, unlike the others in the series, has two chapters. I kind of like where the first chapter cuts off as an end point, but I want to give you the option of the second chapter for an ending... so it's there as an extra continuation. Whether you consider that to be what happens or not is up to you. 
> 
> This will be my last fic for Shameless, which is a little bittersweet, so thank you for sticking it out with me. Thank you all, from the very bottom of my heart, for reading this series. Thank you for continuing to read it and rec it even after I didn't write anything for nearly two years. Thank you for your comments and your kudos. It really is a fantastic feeling to not only be able to write for an audience, but having so many people reading this and enjoying it, that's really very amazing and wonderful.
> 
> Hope you like it, if not... well, I like it.
> 
> Chapter titles are from "Not With Haste by Mumford & Sons"

The thing about trying to be friends with your ex is that it never works. Or rarely ever works.   
  
It’s not that Ian didn’t try, because he did. Mickey asked if they could be friends and there was very little in the world that Ian wouldn’t have given Mickey if he asked. So Ian swallowed his pain, bared through the ache in his chest, and pretended that Mickey was nothing more than a friend. But despite Ian’s attempts at denial, he knew that Mickey could never be just his friends. It was the tragedy of loving someone with the entirety his heart that refused to love him in return.   
  
It lasted a few months before Ian got an offer from a hospital in Washington to finish up his residency there.   
  
Ian had waffled over the decision. He weighed the pros and cons, trying his best not to allow Mickey to factor into his decision and failing each time. After a week of turmoil it was Lip who talked some sense into him.   
  
“Fucking stop pretending Mickey isn’t going to affect your decision,” Lip had said, “He is already. Ian, it’s a good job and a good opportunity. You’d have a better chance to do research and in my opinion, you’d be working with some of the best doctors in the country.” Lip had put his hand on Ian’s shoulder, directing his sightline. “Your hospital is good, Ian, it is. But the thing that is holding you back is Mickey. What you’ve got to consider is whether you want to stay put and torture yourself over something that’s never gonna happen, or if it’s time to move forward.”   
  
The next day Ian filed all the paperwork, spoke to the Chief of Medicine, and took the position in Washington.   
  
Mickey stopped Ian on his last shift, as he was about to walk out the door and said, “So, you’re really going then?”   
  
Ian nodded, opened his mouth to speak but found he had nothing to say - nothing that could easily sum up all he was feeling. He swallowed, eyes boring into Mickey’s, looking for one last sign that he was giving up too soon.   
  
But, of course, like it had been for the past six months, there was nothing to be found. Mickey lifted a hand, not even a real wave goodbye, and said, “Good luck out there, Gallagher.”   
  
And that was the last time Ian saw Mickey.   


 

  
-   


 

  
**Three Years Later.  
**

  
Ian is drunk. He isn’t supposed to drink, and yet, he still did.   
  
It’s not Ian’s fault, he wants to forget this night ever happened. (Actually, maybe that makes it completely his fault).   
  
In his last year of residency, Ian was offered the opportunity to assist a neurosurgeon on a research project. It's about how a deeper study of the brain could lead to real and permanent treatment for serious mental illnesses. Even now, after a year and a half of research and work, they have barely gotten any tangible results. Due to the nature of their research, it is both controversial and difficult to actually test.   
  
(Ian loves the idea of a permanent solution, but he’s not sure how realistic it’s going to end up being. Still, he feels like the work he is doing could become meaningful.)   
  
Ian’s spent the past year traveling to different hospitals, looking into the new data and information. He's studied so many brain scans that he’s started to forget what anything else in the world looks like. It’s good though, he’s been busy and happy that way. He feels like the work he is doing can have an incredibly meaningful impact on the world, and it’s exhilarating.   
  
The work is not the reason he is drinking. The reason he is drinking is because he just did his first presentation at a medical conference. He was hoping to inspire more medical professionals to get involved with their research, but completely fucking blew it. He forgot half of what he was saying, mumbled and stuttered through the other half. He sweat through his shirt and tripped going both on and off stage. It was easily the most embarrassing moment of his life. And because he is being put up in the hotel that the conference is being held at, there is no escape.   
  
It doesn’t help that he’s back in Chicago for the conference. He is one hundred percent positive he saw his former Attending, Doctor Samuels, watching him fuck up with a smug smirk. (Doctor Samuels had been very insulted when Ian left the hospital. He called Ian ungrateful and expressed how unprecedented it was to switch hospitals - and states - during a residency).    
  
So Ian is camped out at the bar, on his fifth drink of the night. Trying in vain to hide his face so that no one can recognize him from that God awful fucking talk. It might work, but he suspects not when some guys sits down in the seat right next him. Ian ducks his head, taking another drink and praying that they’ll order a drink and go away.   
  
Then the guy starts speaking, and Ian’s head shoots up.   
  
“When I was about fuckin’ nine or ten, the guys I used to hang out with at school dared me to ask this girl out. She was one of those nicely groomed, fuckin’ pigtails and curls, pretty blonde hair types. And y’know, I was never like that.”    
  
Mickey is sitting at the bar. He's wearing a nice shirt and dress pants, talking to Ian like it hasn’t been years since they’ve seen each other. Ian is quite sure how to handle it. Mickey doesn’t seem to notice that Ian is in crisis and keeps talking.   
  
“Obviously I don’t like her but I think, fuck it, all the guys are telling me to go over there and whatever. I walk up to her, tell her that we should go and get like a burger or some shit. Didn’t even ask just told her because I was a cocky shit. And she looks at me like I’m the grossest fuckin’ thing on the planet. I swear, sometimes I still think of the look on this girl’s face when I said it.” Mickey shakes his head and snatches up Ian’s drinking, taking a long swig like it’s been the hardest day of his. “Fuckin’ girls, man. So she screams and calls me gross, says no, and runs away with her friends. These guys are laughing and making fun of me, I’m laughing with them, because whatever. But shit, that was a bad time. I felt fuckin’ shitty after that.”   
  
Ian blinks and realizes that he’s gaping at Mickey like a fucking idiot. He closes his mouth and clears his throat trying to re-situate himself. “Are you - Is that - uhm,” Ian tries to fumble his way through more than two words. He realizes that this might actually be more embarrassing than the whole talk was.   
  
“Gallagher,” Mickey says, putting his hand on Ian’s arm and drawing Ian’s focus solely onto himself. It’s sudden and grounding in a way Ian didn’t even realize he had been missing. “Trade off. I saw your talk, figured it’d make you feel better to know that we all have shitty days sometimes.”   
  
Ian smiles and lets out a small laugh, his eyes feel a little watery. “I don’t think asking a girl out when you were nine is the same as the fuck up I was out there.”   
  
Mickey shrugs, “Nah, but that’s all I fuckin’ got for you.”   
  
Ian laughs then, loud and free. He’s still drunk, feels a little loose and messy, but suddenly also very, very good.   
  
“Hey Mick,” Ian says.   
  
Mickey shoots him a crooked smile, “Hey Ian.”   
  
Ian takes a moment to stare at Mickey, take it in and will himself to believe that this is real. This isn’t a dream, Mickey is right there, right next to him, tangible and still holding onto his forearm. It doesn’t feel like it should be real, Ian’s sure he’s imagined this a million times since he left Chicago.   
  
Ian has to shake his head out and laugh again, “Wow, uh - Hey. Mickey. Wow.”   
  
Mickey snorts and takes his hand away then, swatting the back of Ian’s head lightly before leaning back in his seat. “C’mon, Gallagher, don’t act so surprised.”   
  
“It’s been a long time,” Ian says. “I didn’t expect to see you here or-” Ian stops himself, but Mickey seems to catch onto where the thought was headed.   
  
Mickey scratches his nose, a nervous tick. God, being near him is like listening to your favorite song for the first time. Ian had forgotten the impact Mickey had.    
  
“Or ever?” Mickey finishes. “Did you want that? I can go.”   
  
“No, no. Definitely not, I didn’t mean that.” Ian corrects, barely holding himself back from reaching out to grab onto Mickey. “I, uhm, I didn’t expect you. It’s good though, it’s really fucking good to see you again.”   
  
Mickey smiles, smaller and sadder than before, “Yeah, same.” He takes a moment to order a beer as the bartender comes over and then turns his attention back to Ian. “Hospital hasn’t been the same without you. Got this whole group of asshole interns. Think they’re all hot shit or something now that they’re about to be doctors, but none of them have got a fuckin’ clue. Dana’s one last back talking shithead away from smacking them all.”   
  
Ian thinks back to his days at the hospital with Mickey. He can remember all the days sitting in the cafeteria and listening to Mickey complain about how much he hates all the doctors, half of the office staff and most of the custodians. It almost feels like deja vu.   
  
“Sorry I left, could have been bitter and angry like you.”   
  
Mickey raises his eyebrows, looking over at Ian with the hint of a smile playing at his lips, “Fuckin’ sassy now, huh. What happened to the mumbling mess earlier?”   
  
Ian shrugs, “Guess you cured me.”   
  
“Oh yeah, so you want to head on up there for an encore now.”   
  
Ian gives Mickey a gentle shove as he laughs, “Fuck off. I’m never doing that again.”   
  
“Yeah. As much as I want to be able to say I support you in all your endeavours, I think that’s one you should give up on.”   
  
Ian blinks and tilts his head at the uncharacteristically open and caring statement. “You want to support me in all my endeavours?”   
  
Mickey looks at Ian like he’s grown a third eye. “Of course. You’re good shit, Gallagher. Not a lot of people on that list, but you are.”   
  
Ian’s heart beats faster and he has to look away, take a moment not to be completely focused on Mickey. It doesn’t work, of course, Mickey’s presence is and always has been all encompassing. Ian wonders if it’s strange to forget that you're still in love with someone. No, forget is the wrong word, because he never forgot, it’s always been there.   
  
He’s dated here and there, nothing serious and nothing lasting, because none of it ever compared. Nothing even came close to the exhilaration and joy Ian felt with Mickey. So, no, he never forgot. It faded to the back of his mind, a dormant thought waiting to be set off at the right moment.   
  
This moment, as it turns out.   
  
“What have you been doing?” Ian asks, he feels shaken but refuses to let it show. “Since you now know what I’ve been working on.”   
  
Mickey cocks an eyebrow, “Same as always. Taking care of ungrateful fuckin’ patients that bitch about the water not being cold enough. Never appreciate that we’re trying to keep five other fuckin’ people alive.” Mickey shrugs, takes a sip of his beer and smiles, “It’s good though.”   
  
Ian nods, “Good. You’re an amazing nurse, I can’t imagine you doing something different actually.”   
  
Mickey snorts, “Nah, me either. Not that I ever thought it’d be like that when I was younger. Fuckin’ hilarious sometimes, looking back, thinking about where you are now.” His voice softens as he turns to Ian, “Where you could’ve been.”   
  
It feels heavy - too heavy - suddenly all too much, and Ian panics.   
  
“The army.” Ian’s says it a little too quick and loud, it’s stupid and he hates himself a little bit for it. He coughs into his fist and tries not to notice the furrow in Mickey’s brow. “Uhm, when I was younger I wanted to join the army. Air force, actually, I wanted to fly. But it didn’t work out.”   
  
Mickey smiles and shakes his head, “Hero complex.”   
  
Ian blinks, “That’s what Lip, my-”   
  
“Your brother says?” Mickey cuts him off, “Yeah, I remember. You told me that once, that you became a doctor and your brother said it’s a hero complex. I get it.”   
  
Ian smiles, he remembers that too, lying in bed and talking about their lives. It was pillowtalk, despite the strong restrictions Mickey had put on their not-relationship. A sweet moment, whispering to each other about their motivations; who they were and how they had gotten to this point.    
  
“Mickey,” Ian frowns and stops himself, he’s not sure if this is a good idea or not. He knows without a doubt that whatever he felt for Mickey all those years ago is still there for him. But is it still for Mickey? Is it worth pursuing or should he leave it all in the past.   
  
“Do you want to go somewhere quieter?”   
  
Because even if the chance is slim, it’s still there, and Ian will regret it forever if he doesn’t try.   
  
Mickey leans back in his chair, eyes boring into Ian’s and chewing on his lip as he seems to mull over Ian’s question. Ian can see the cogs turning in Mickey’s mind. Considering what Ian is asking, where they were before and what could happen now if Mickey were to say yes.   
  
Or if he were to say no, again.   
  
“Ian, I- fuck, I don’t know how to say this.”   
  
“Mick, it’s not what you were thinking, I’m just-”   
  
“I’m getting married.”   
  
Ian’s blood runs cold, color draining from his face and leaving him frozen.   
  
“Fuck, maybe we should actually go somewhere a little quieter to talk.” Mickey mutters and rubs a hand over his face.    
  
Ian shakes his head and swallows, “No, no. It’s fine. I mean, it’s been awhile, right? I can’t expect that you are still…” He peters off into silence and leans on the bar, “It’s not - I mean, this isn’t-”   
  
“Not a woman,” Mickey answers, he always been perceptive to the way Ian’s mind works. “I love him, he’s actually another doctor, un-fuckin’-believable that I fell for another one of you assholes.”   
  
Ian nods numbly. He didn’t see this coming, every time he thought of Mickey or imagined what his life was like, he never saw this coming.    
  
“Fell for another?” Ian asks, looking over to Mickey finally. “You mean…”   
  
Mickey’s face falls and he nods, “I loved you. Fuckin’ stupid, but I always thought you knew.”   
  
I loved you. It’s like a knife through his heart. Those words he yearned for for so long. Finally said and confirming what he had hoped, but it hurts more than the absence of knowledge did.   
  
Mickey looks around the bar and stands, grabbing onto Ian’s bicep and tugging. “C’mon, let’s go talk somewhere.”   
  
“Mickey, it’s fine, I’m completely-”   
  
“No, you’re not.” Mickey says firmly, “Please, come with me, I want to - I feel like I owe you an explanation.”   
  
Ian wants to argue that Mickey doesn’t. And he doesn’t, not really. They’re old flames, that’s all. Ian has never had any claim over Mickey. Even if he had at the time, any and all rights to know about Mickey’s life disappeared the second Ian left Chicago. But Ian doesn’t say that, he lets Mickey pull him away, follows him out of the hotel and down the street. Ian knows where they are, he recognizes the streets, and soon they’re walking into Mickey’s apartment.   
  
It’s the same as it’s always been and Ian feels like he’s finally come home.   
  
Except it’s not his home, it never was.   
  
“Do you want something to drink?” Mickey asks, sees the way Ian sways and then says, “I’ll get you some water.”   
  
Ian wants to argue but figures that it’s best. His head feels messy and tangled, some water could do him good. Mickey brings over a glass filled to the brim, and leads Ian to sit on the couch. Ian notices immediately that the worn old blanket Mickey used to have has been replaced by a new, soft faux-fur throw. It seems so out of place.   
  
“You’re getting married,” Ian mutters, mostly to himself, as he stares at the blanket.   
  
“I met him about a year after you left. He’s at a different hospital but their MRI machine broke down so he had to bring a patient to our hospital. And it fuckin’ happened. I dunno.” Mickey breathes out, Ian’s not looking but he can almost sense the way Mickey licks his lips and rubs his hand on his pants. “He sat down at my table and we talked and he… fuck, he made me laugh. I felt like I hadn’t laughed since you left.”   
  
Ian looks over then, sees the way Mickey’s staring at him like his heart's been torn out.   
  
“I should’ve said something to stop you from going, and I didn’t. That’s on me. But fuck, I missed you so much, Ian.”   
  
Ian’s eyes feel a little wet and his throat thick, “I missed you too,” He whispers.   
  
“The only reason me and him have gotten this far, the only reason we could have, is you. I never let myself believe I could love someone until you, and then I just couldn’t admit it outloud. I fuckin’ hate myself for that, but I guess it got me here.” Mickey’s looking down at his hands now, “He’s my whole world and I… I wouldn’t be here without you. So, thank you.”   
  
Ian furrows his brow, Mickey’s watching him with a painful amount of earnesty. It hurts.   
  
“Thank you and I’m so fuckin’ sorry.”   
  
Ian nods, “Yeah. I guess, you’re welcome.”    
  
Ian chugs back some water and tries to clear his thoughts. He never thought he would hear an apology from Mickey. Not for that, not for anything. It is out of character, though maybe not anymore. It’s been so long that he doesn’t know Mickey anymore. He thinks for a second that it’s very nice to hear an apology. It’s what he’s been waiting for to close the door on Mickey and move on with his life.   
  
And the second is over, and Ian is mad.   
  
“I-” He stops and swallows, “I... loved you. I loved you so fucking much, I thought that there wasn’t a single person in the world who could compare to you. I haven’t had a boyfriend, a real boyfriend, since before I even met you. I would have done anything - given up anything - just for you. Just to make you happy and hope that one day you could love me back.” His voice is getting louder and sharper as he speaks, the momentum of his words rolling. “I loved you for years, I loved you always - in spite of everything. I have loved you since the moment I fucking saw you. I love you.”   
  
It’s silent, Mickey’s lips are parted as he stares at Ian.   
  
“I love you, still. Always.” Ian takes a deep breath, tries to hold it together but he’s failing, “And you - you found someone else? I fucking tried so hard to be everything for you, and you go off and find someone else to fall in love with. And then you fucking thank me?”   
  
“You left!” Mickey snaps, finally breaking from his trance. “I needed time, I needed to work it all out in my own fuckin’ time, but you wouldn’t let that happen. You kept fuckin’ pushing and pushing, and then you up and left.” Mickey points an accusing finger and shakes his head, “You don’t put this shit on me. You left me and I moved on. Just because you never did doesn’t make me bad for doing it.”   
  
Mickey’s right, of course, Ian knows he is. It still aches so terribly. His chest hurts. He wants to curl up in a ball for the rest of his life, to try and avoid anything that could make him hurt like this again.    
  
“Why couldn’t you have loved me?” Ian asks weakly, desperately. “I could have been a good boyfriend, a good fucking husband. I could have been, if you would have let me.”   
  
Mickey softens a bit, walking over and putting an arm around Ian’s shoulder to pull him into Mickey’s side. It’s comfortable and warm, everything Ian’s been missing since he left Mickey’s arms.   
  
“I loved you,” Mickey whispers, “I did. I promise you, I did. I think I still do a bit, but it’s not the same anymore. I wasn’t in the right place back then, Ian. You would have been a great boyfriend, I know that, but I wouldn’t have. Fuck, you would hate me as much as you do right now.”   
  
“I don’t hate you.”   
  
“I know.”   
  
“It’s just, you and me, I’ve never felt something like that anywhere else.” Ian says, it’s so painfully honest the he feels the urge to hide his face in Mickey’s shirt. He doesn’t, but mostly out of fear that he would never move again.   
  
Mickey’s hand rubs up and down on Ian’s back, he rests his cheek against Ian’s shoulder, “I know.”   
  
“You’re getting married.”   
  
“It’s… different,” Mickey answers, “It’s not the - we had something special. It’s a different love, not less, just different.”   
  
“But it wasn’t enough, I wasn’t enough.” Ian murmurs, pitiful thoughts continuing to circle in his mind. He hates this.   
  
Mickey shakes his head, “Fuck Ian, no one would have been enough at that point. You don’t get how hard it is, you never did. I spent years hating myself and that didn’t change because I came out. That’s what I’m trying to tell you here, Ian. It was never you, it was always me. I didn’t need you to be more or better. You were perfect,” Ian shakes his head at that and feels Mickey’s arm tighten around him. “Nah, you fuckin’ were. I couldn’t be that for you, and I knew it. I wanted to be, but it scared the shit out of me. I could deal with wanting to fuck guys and not girls - I could do that. I could accept that. But then the whole boyfriends, it was - I dunno. You got it, that night when you told me I was ashamed. I was - but I was never ashamed of you.”   
  
Ian sniffs trying in vain to hold back the tears in his eyes. Mickey must have thought it would be some sort of comfort. Telling Ian that it wasn’t his fault, that he did everything he could, but all it makes Ian feel is more regret.    
  
“I never should have left,” Ian says, “I should have stayed and been there for you. I should have waited, maybe one day you would have been ready. Fuck, I’m so stupid I should have waited.”   
  
Mickey curls his fingers under Ian’s chin and tilts his head up. He looks at him with such pity that it’s like one more knife to Ian’s heart. “Ian, you can’t think like that,” Mickey whispers. “What happened happened.”   
  
Ian nods, looks down, “But if I had stayed, if I had waited, can you tell me honestly that you wouldn’t be marrying me - married to me? Can you tell me, honestly, that it wouldn’t be me?”   
  
Mickey backs away then, biting his lower lip and shaking his head. “Ian, you don’t want to think about that.”   
  
“I already am, Mick, so answer.”   
  
Ian feels his bitterness, his anger sweeping back again. He’s not mad at Mickey, he isn’t, but he’s mad at everything else. He’s mad at himself, at the fucking conference, his job in Washington. He's mad at Mickey’s fucking doctor fiance, and that stupid fucking faux-fur blanket that is clearly not Mickey’s. Mostly, he’s mad that right now, standing in front of Mickey, he’s sure that if he had fucking stayed, this could be him.   
  
“Ian.” It’s a warning, Ian recognizes that still. Mickey’s trying to stay calm and reserved, but Ian’s starting to push.   
  
Good. Ian wants Mickey to be mad. He wants Mickey to feel the same burning rage that Ian does.   
  
“That says enough, doesn’t it. That I’m right. It would be me.” Ian’s lip curls up as he meets Mickey’s steely gaze. He can see it, Mickey’s on the edge and Ian wants him to fucking crack.   
  
“It wouldn’t.”   
  
Ian flinches, “What?”   
  
“You want the truth? You want to know if you would be in his place, marrying me, if you hadn’t fuckin’ left? Well, you wouldn’t.” Mickey shrugs, like it’s the simplest truth he’s ever known, and another piece of Ian breaks. “You want to know why? ‘Course you do. You wouldn’t ask if you didn’t. It’s this fuckin’ bullshit!” Mickey finally raises his voice, gestures his hand back and forth between himself and Ian. “It’s this shit with you constantly pushing and arguing for what you need - what you fuckin’ want. You think you could have been patient enough to wait for me to be ready? Fuck off! You wouldn’t. You would’ve waited a bit, let me get comfortable again, and then bitched your fuckin’ face off about what’s important to you.”   
  
Ian doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to even move his mouth to make a noise.   
  
“You were a great boyfriend, but I didn’t need a fuckin’ boyfriend - I didn’t want one. I needed someone to be patient - to not push me and let me figure it out on my own - and you were never going to be that guy.”   
  
Ian nods, he feels fucking numb. “I’m sorry,” Ian whispers. “I didn’t realize - I thought…” He trails off, unsure of what he was even trying to say. He shakes his head and wipes away the tears from his cheeks, “I’m sorry. I’m glad you’re happy, Mick. You deserve it.”   
  
“Yeah, I do.” Mickey answers and sucks on his lip, watching Ian and contemplating. Ian can see that way he’s considering his words now, letting his anger fade back away. “I shouldn’t have interrupted your night. Fuckin’ ruined it.”   
  
Ian shrugs, sniffing loudly again. “At least I’m not thinking about that fucking presentation anymore.”   
  
Mickey snorts, his lips tilting up at the corners into a smile, “Yeah, that’s true.”   
  
They stand in the awkward silence, trying in vain to think of how their conversation continues from here. What left is there to say, after all.   
  
“Are you starting to sober up?” Mickey asks. Ian nods and shoves his hands in his pants pockets, it probably looks childish but he’s comfortable. Mickey gestures to the kitchen, “Do you want a glass of water?”   
  
Ian shakes his head. He does want a glass of water, his throat feels so parched it’s painful, but he can’t accept it. “I should go,” Ian answers instead.    
  
Mickey doesn’t argue, he nods and leads Ian to the door. Ian pauses at the doorway, looks down at Mickey and takes a second to really look at him. He looks the same as ever, of course, and Ian still doesn’t think he’s seen a more beautiful person in his life. He hates how awkward it feels between them now, but he supposes at least he’ll never see Mickey again.   
  
Which means there’s nothing to lose anymore.   
  
“I don’t want you to answer and I’ll leave right after I say this, “ Ian starts, already seeing the hesitance in Mickey’s eyes. Ian ignores it and continues, “I love you, Mickey. I’ll love you forever. And I know that timing between us was wrong, which I'm sure will be my greatest sadness until the day I die. It’s all okay though, because I still got a chance to love you. I wish it was longer, I’d give anything to have more, but I get it. I can’t blame you for finding happiness with someone else, and I don’t. Or I’ll try not to. I guess I wanted to say, that I know for a fact that we were meant to meet and that I was meant to love you. It’s the only thing in the world I’ve ever been sure of. I love you, I’m sorry I couldn’t be what you needed, I wish I could be that for you now. And I know that I will spend the rest of my life wishing that I could be.”   
  
Ian doesn’t wait to see Mickey’s reaction, he can’t bare to see what it is. Instead he rushes out the door. He walks down the street letting his mind replay the night on loop, thinking through every little detail of their conversation. Finally, he returns to the hotel and heads up to his room. His mind is spinning and he needs a fucking break.    


 

  
-   
  


 

Six months later, during an early Christmas break visit with his family, Ian sees Mickey again. Mickey's walking down the street at some outdoor Christmas market. It's a thousand times too cold to be outside, but still he is there, hand-in-hand with another man.   
  
Ian thinks about going over to say hello, a quick and short greeting before going on his way. It seems polite and Ian prepares himself to do it. Then Mickey walks closer and Ian sees a glint of gold metal flashing on his left hand.   
  
It's a wedding ring.   
  
Ian stares for a moment longer because, well, _Mickey looks so happy_. And then he leaves.

 

 

-

 

 

It gets better with time.  
  
It starts with days, and God, they feel the longest. His mind circles back to Mickey, to his smile, his hand and the shining gold on his finger. Minutes tick on, feeling like centuries. He can't stop thinking about Mickey. He thinks of Mickey's smile when he's waking up, drowsy and happy. He thinks of Mickey's laugh, obnoxious and ugly but beautiful. He thinks of the way Mickey felt in his arms, warm and cozy, fit against him like they were always meant to be that way.  
  
The first days are the hardest to get through.  
  
But days turn into weeks and then months and then years. Because no matter how much it hurts, time doesn't stop for a broken heart. No matter how badly Ian wants to wallow and ache, time ticks on, and it gets better. It hurts less and less.  
  
His career takes off. His study starts to produce real results and the people he meets - the lives he changes - it is incredible. He is offered a position as an attending, teaching interns and residents not unlike himself a few years before.  
  
It's slow and painful, but it does get better.  
  
Ian barely thinks of Mickey at all anymore. Of course, he does, still - sometimes.   
  
There's a day, Ian is walking down the halls of the hospital and sees an intern rushing into the closet to hide. Ian shoves his hands in his pockets and smiles fondly at the closed door. It's not the same one, not even the same hospital, but Ian is filled with memories.  
  
Ian remembers how scared he was that day. He had only just discovered a job that he felt passionate about and was already sure that he had fucked it up. The fear was overwhelming and painful, but Mickey had seen that and changed it all.  
  
He's given Ian more than Ian will ever be able to thank him for. Mickey taught Ian to believe in himself, as cheesy as it sounds. Because of Mickey, Ian created a career and life for himself. One that he looks back at and feels so fucking proud.  
  
Mickey told Ian, all those years ago, that every year there was one intern that cracked and hid somewhere to breakdown. Ian waits for it now, because it is true - there's always one. It varies with the years, but Ian watches. He doesn't follow the intern at that moment. He lets them have that moment without any additional embarrassment of their attending watching them breakdown.  
  
It's later that Ian pulls them aside and tells them his own story. How he used to be that intern and that he understands. He tells them about a nurse that changed his life and how he knows it is hard right now - and that it never gets easy - but he knows they can make it. Afterall, Ian did.  
  
Ian still thinks that Mickey is the greatest love of his life - the only love of his life. But that's the thing about love - the greatest loves never last. They're meant to be fleeting, otherwise you would burn to pieces from the intensity of it.  
  
He's okay without that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr, let's chill](http://meganwwrites.tumblr.com)


	2. but not with haste

Ian walks to the train station, he has his briefcase in one hand and a coffee in the other. He’s running late for work, he knows, but he couldn’t seem to get out of bed that morning. He’s thinks he should feel stressed or panicked, he usually does when it takes him extra long to get out of bed, but for some reason he feels calm.   
  
It used to be so infrequent Ian would feel centered and content, so when he does, he likes to pause for a moment and enjoy it.   
  
He takes a deep breath, inhaling the smell of spring, and keeps walking at a leisurely pace. He’s already late after all, so why bother to rush? He’ll come up with some excuse once he gets to the hospital, like the train being late or something equally as lame. It doesn’t matter to Ian what it is, he doesn’t even want to think about it yet, all he wants is stay in this moment of serenity.   
  
Besides, as long as he beats the interns there, no one may even notice he is late.   
  
He reaches the train station and sits down on the left side of a bench, sharing with a man looking at his phone. Ian glances at him for a moment and notices familiar fingers, then it clicks and he gasps.   
  
He looks up to meet Mickey’s eyes, beautiful as they’ve always been - not even just his eyes, but Mickey: beautiful.   
  
“Hi,” Mickey says, his mouth pulling into a small, surprised smile.   
  
“Hi,” Ian breathes it more than he says it, surprised that the words is even audible at all. He doesn't even question why Mickey is in Washington, he's so happy to see him.   
  
“I was hoping I would see you again,” Mickey says, flashing his teeth as he locks his phone and tucks it in his pocket. “Didn’t know you took this train, man. You heading to work right now, or do you have some free time? It’s cool if you don’t tho-”   
  
Ian barely registers the words, cutting Mickey off as he says, “You’re not wearing a ring.”   
  
Mickey stops, looking down for a second before he turns his gaze back to Ian. He has a small private smile, one Ian’s grown so entirely fond of, and his eyes are filled with such sincerity that Ian feels his heart start to thump painfully in his chest.   
  
Mickey shrugs one shoulder and says, “I’m not wearing a ring.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr, let's chill](http://meganwwrites.tumblr.com)


End file.
